


Another Birthday Surprise

by Natashasolten



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:05:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vinnie is extremely upset by the body with the big red bow so Sonny figures out something else for them to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Birthday Surprise

“Come on. Come on, Vinnie. Get hold of yourself, pal.” Sonny was holding Vinnie tightly by the inside of the elbow, pulling, nearly dragging him back, fingers digging into silk and what was beneath: rigid tendon, bone. His palm rode the heat of the so-angry man before him.

He’d never seen Vinnie quite this way before.

The large nightclub swayed hazy under his gaze, smoke-filled. Music deafened most other sound, an incessant, pounding heartbeat within a monster that looked like a building filled with gyrating, dancing, flirting people. With it came the clatter of glassware behind the bar. And occasional shouts. The sour scent of alcohol permeated every breath, every gleaming surface.

Normally being here was fun. Normally. They’d visited this particular club many, many times. Vinnie could get any girl with a glance. He was that stunning. Shiny, burnished, dark-shadowed and beneath it all that perfect pinpoint of an electric blue gaze. That gaze was all soul. Sonny could not deny it. It was a game with them. The flirting. The girls. Their knowing, traded looks back and forth past the shoulders of sweet blondes, laughing brunettes. Sometimes Sonny had the thought they were actually flirting with each other.

They always had a good time. Sonny tried not to notice that Vinnie went home with none of them in the end. He didn’t know what all Vinnie did in his free time, and Vinnie had had a couple of short-time girlfriends, but mostly Vinnie enjoyed the going out part, then went home alone.

Tonight was a bad night. Not only did it show in Vinnie’s eyes, haunted, churning, pained, but his behavior was surly, hot-tempered, defensive. His mannerisms, usually graceful, sure, were tonight more awkward, peppered with quick, unconnected gestures, excessive hyperactivity, a sort of stumbling walk, a posturing slump.

Sonny thought the club, and a few drinks, would do him good. He’d been wrong. Vinnie was a lot more upset than he’d first realized.

The whole thing had started with the body in the back of the limo. The body with the big red bow. Vinnie had not seemed pleased. Sonny had been surprised. His first thought was that he should have let Vinnie kill Vanno. But quickly, on the tail of that thought, came another. Vinnie was not a natural born killer. Not really. He was a great bodyguard. He could defend himself with a toughness and skill Sonny had rarely seen. But after that first time Sonny had asked Vinnie to kill a cop to prove his trust, he’d noticed that while Vinnie followed orders to a ‘T’, his distaste could not be veiled. Sonny had never asked him to do another hit after that. Besides, Vinnie was better at other stuff, smart, and he needed him in other capacities.

So tonight when Sonny had gifted Vinnie with revenge, the revenge Vinnie had asked for, begged for with that soul-gaze of his -- vengeance for the death of his cousin Danny -- he thought he’d done him a favor. But having gotten to know him better over the past few months, he had to admit he should not have been surprised at Vinnie’s look of horror.

Of course Vinnie had wanted the guy dead. But maybe not delivered on his doorstep like the cliche proud cat with the cliche dead mouse.

Sonny felt supremely classless at that moment, and suddenly very stupid.

Happy Birthday, Vinnie.

Sonny had back-pedaled quickly, pulled Vinnie out of the limo and into the night and the street-noise, and pushed Vinnie toward his Porsche. He called some guys to handle the situation, then immediately took Vinnie off for an evening of distractions far away from work, from the streets, from seedy dead guys with big red bows wrapped around them.

But Vinnie was still upset. And the further away they drove the more upset he seemed to get.

Sonny was driving toward the club, marveling at the car he’d actually never driven before, and saying, “What we need is a couple a drinks and a couple a girls. That’s what we need.”

He kept chatting like that, trying to soothe. But when he looked over at Vinnie he was so tense, his face drawn up. He let out a strange sound, shut his eyes tight.

Sonny reached out, palm on his shoulder, fingernails catching the upper seam of the fancy jacket. A normal touch. Vinnie flinched. Vinnie never flinched at his touch before.

“Do you wanna do something else?” Sonny asked quietly, reluctantly taking his hand away.

Vinnie shook his head wordlessly.

Then Sonny found himself saying short, unfinished sentences. “You asked me…” “I thought it was what you wanted…” “You kept saying…” “You said to get this guy…”

In a strange tone, Vinnie replied, “I know. Thank you.” His lips were tight. His eyes opened, blinking rapidly.

Gratitude which was not gratitude made Sonny uneasy. He liked Vinnie because the man didn’t hold back opinion with him, didn’t pussy-foot to earn favor. It was refreshing. He didn’t want that to ever change.

He gripped the steering wheel hard, saying, “Fuck it. You don’t gotta thank me for something like that. Ever. I just…” Now he put a hand to the bridge of his nose, pressing. “The guy was a total asshole creep. He set me up. I lost my customs op because of him.”

Vinnie inhaled sharply.

The sound went through Sonny like a sword. Mouth suddenly dry, he said, “I’m sorry about your cousin.”

“It’s just nothing we can do will bring him back,” Vinnie mumbled unsteadily.

Sonny knew about grief. Real grief. This was Vinnie’s nightmare now. He was in it. He thought about what to do and all he could come up with was to stay with him, make sure he got some distraction, make sure he made it home alive.

The body with the bow. Maybe they could both just forget about it.

But thinking drinks would calm him was Sonny’s second mistake. Vinnie was okay as a drinker. He could hold his own. But in Sonny’s experience he’d never gotten drunk with him when Vinnie was this upset.

He should’ve known better.

The first thing Vinnie did after only one drink was get into an argument with the bartender, shouting above the din of music, about the cheap brand of whiskey he’d been served. It was so unlike him. Vinnie was no snob. Sonny smoothed that one over with fresh drinks, a new brand, and a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

He decided to hold off drinking much himself, staying sober, keeping an ever careful eye on him. Watching Vinnie was easy anyway, one of his favorite things to do. The man was easy on the eye, smooth, beautiful actually. That dark hair was thick as midnight, glossy and fresh. He had the chiseled, youthful features of a guy from the cover of a romance novel. And skin always the color of a young tan. But right now Vinnie’s blue eyes seemed to flame, angry, hurt. Everything was there in those damp eyes, all feeling coming up at once. He kept glancing at Sonny, then glancing away as if he had something to hide.

“You gotta relax,” Sonny said gently, handing him another drink.

“Yeah,” Vinnie replied thickly. “If I could just stop thinking about him for one minute…”

Danny. Vinnie really had loved that kid.

Then Vinnie got a look, almost wincing. He got up with a forced jerk, his stool scraping the floor. Without any seeming provocation he approached a nearby girl. Normally that would be just fine. But this girl was with another guy.

Sonny sighed heavily, the word “fuck” forcing its way from his throat, and got up.

It happened fast. The guy was in Vinnie’s face and Vinnie looked ready to clobber him, fists clenched, posture tight even as he wavered from too many drinks.

That was when Sonny grabbed his elbow, pulling, dragging him back. “Come on. Come on, Vinnie. Get hold of yourself, pal.”

“What’re ya doin’? This guy’s in my face…”

“We gotta go,” Sonny said.

Everything was loud, loud. To be heard over the music, their voices were raised. It was all wrong.

Vinnie nearly whirled on him, then, moving fast, snarled, “I don’t wanna go!”

Sonny hardened his gaze and his grip. “It’s not a request, Terranova.”

Vinnie shook his head, wincing again. He moved forward just enough to push Sonny.

Instead of pushing back, Sonny leaned in and said, trying not to yell but trying to be heard at the same time, “You wanna hit somebody you can hit me. Okay? But not here.”

Vinnie’s face closed at those words. Pain shuddered through the muscles of his body. Sonny felt the jolt where his hand still grasped his elbow. And that heat. Such heat.

Sonny pulled, saying softer, mouth moving closer to Vinnie’s ear, “Babe, come on. You’re with me tonight. Forget about the girls. Let’s go.”

Maybe the gentler tone was what did it. Sonny didn’t know. He only knew that he commanded successfully in two ways, fear or enticement. With Vinnie he always liked enticement. Besides, for some reason fear didn’t work so well on Vinnie.

Whatever it was, Vinnie stopped protesting, stumbled once but followed. Out the door the cold night sky sprawled amber-hued, reflecting city light. It was like a golden fog. Vinnie looked up when Sonny looked up, caught his breath, made a strangled sound.

“Come on.” Sonny caught his sleeve again, his hand tangling in loose fabric, grasping the smaller part of his arm just above the elbow. When they got to the car Vinnie was breathing hard.

“Where’re the stars?” Vinnie asked, almost plaintive.

Sonny tilted his head, frowning at him. Sometimes Vinnie could be downright strange. “Get in. Maybe if we drive around for awhile we can find some.”

But Sonny didn’t drive around. Instead, he drove them home. Vinnie was too upset to take on any kind of evening road trip.

Vinnie was pretty good in the car. Still. Quiet. But his breathing was erratic.

When they arrived at the garage and got out, Sonny hurried around the car to Vinnie’s side. He had started to wander off away from the elevators.

Sonny took him by the arm again, thinking maybe by now his fingers were leaving an imprint, that the two of them were on their way to becoming permanently connected, hand to elbow. Vinnie turned way too fast, as if shocked.

Sonny said, “Hey, upstairs. That’s where we’re headed now.”

Vinnie said, turning away, then turning back, shuffling his feet, “I…I… I want to…I need to…walk.”

“You really can’t right now,” Sonny replied mildly, keeping his grip on him. “You’ve drunk far too much.”

“I don’t wanna sleep. I can’t sleep,” Vinnie said, swaying, walking sideways, then forward, then nearly into Sonny.

“It’s okay. We’ll order room service or something. We’ll put on a movie. Or loud music. Whatever you want.”

“I don’t wanna think.”

“I know.”

Vinnie bowed his head, but he walked with Sonny to the elevators without any more complaint.

Once they got to Vinnie’s suite Sonny let go of his arm. His hand tingled. Vinnie just stood in the middle of the living room with a blank look.

Sonny took off his own jacket, laid it on the couch arm. For a moment as he stared at Vinnie, silk suit a bit rumpled, dark, thick hair tumbling out of its usual backcombed style and onto his forehead, he felt a strange stirring. A warmth. He wondered what he was doing here, why he felt so responsible for this man. Vinnie was an adult. He could take care of himself. He needed time to grieve, that was all. Sonny should leave.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave. In fact, he was very worried about his number one man. That, and a rare feeling of outright affection kept him rooted, made him feel perhaps he even had the right to stay.

He never remembered feeling like this before about a guy, any guy. Not even his own brother.

It kind of confused him. It kind of mixed him up inside. But he kept being drawn to this guy. Sometimes he felt like he was out in the cold and Vinnie was the flame he kept coming back to, the fire he reached for to warm his hands.

On the edge of that thought, unbidden, came memories of the times he and Vinnie traded looks over girls’ shoulders. A part of him thought, damnably, that if they just got rid of the girls once and for all everything would be fine. Why he might think that, or even want it, he didn’t know. He just did.

It really was a good team they made, him and Vinnie. Things seemed to go well with Vinnie by his side. He’d give anything to keep him there. And he had. He’d given Vinnie so much. But right now he didn’t know what to give. He was out of ideas. Death was something you couldn’t fix. And grief was a process you had to go through. That was a fact.

Still, he couldn’t just sit and do nothing. And obviously, Vanno with a big red bow had not been the answer.

Now he walked over to the silent, still man. Vinnie faced away from him. He touched him softly again where he always did, on the back of the upper arm.

Vinnie whirled as if stung. The burning eyes sought Sonny’s in confusion, then realization. He said, voice scratchy, “I…I…don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sonny kept his hand on him. “What do you want, Vinnie? What?” It was a stupid question but he didn’t know what else to say.

Vinnie just shook his head, pulling roughly away. “I gotta… I don’t know.”

“Well, one thing is you need to relax. Why don’t we sit down.” Sonny’s touch pressed harder.

Vinnie said, roughly, “No.”

“Come on,” Sonny intoned, using his most soothing voice. Enticement. He started to steer Vinnie around the coffee table.

Vinnie shuffled, and tried to shake him off again. “I don’t wanna sit!”

“It’s just to relax, that’s all.” Sonny kept his words level. “It’s not a bad thing. It’ll help.”

Vinnie resisted, saying “No,” a little louder, and shoved a bit with his arm.

Sonny stepped back, catching his balance, and letting out a little laugh. “You can shove me. You can even hit me. Is that what you want?”

Strangely, Sonny almost wanted him to do it. It would make him feel like he served a purpose. Like maybe he would be giving Vinnie something, at long last, that he really wanted. And that was what Sonny had been wanting for a long time, he realized, to finally discover what it was Vinnie really wanted or needed and give it with all his power.

Yeah, Vinnie could hit him.

But Vinnie said, “No!” turning away. “I just don’t wanna sit!”

Sonny forced a chuckle. “I’m just sayin’, you might fall down then.”

“I’m not gonna fall!” And Vinnie whirled on him again. His eyes were smoldering, almost unseeing.

Yes, this was it. Sonny lifted his chin, deliberately puffed up, provoking him. He wanted this. He wanted this?

Predictably, Vinnie shoved Sonny back but as he did he stumbled forward two steps and fell right into him.

Sonny rolled his eyes, mostly at himself, and caught him easily. “Hey, okay. I’m game. But maybe it’s not a fair fight if you can’t stand.”

“Fuck you,” Vinnie said, pawing at his chest, trying to right himself. Sonny held him by the arms and tried not to be amused. Really, Vinnie was hurting. That was a very bad idea, making Vinnie want to hit him. Making Vinnie do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Whatever you do or say, I’m not gonna get mad.”

Vinnie let out a sort of cough, then said, “Why don’t you leave?” He was still trying to right himself, hands fisted against Sonny’s chest.

“You want me to go? Huh?”

Vinnie slumped a little. His head came forward onto Sonny’s shoulder and suddenly Sonny found himself holding him for a moment. It was the most pure and gentle sensation. Not what he’d thought about. He’d really sort of wanted Vinnie to punch him. He wanted impact. He wanted adrenaline. Something…

Not this. This was too close. This was him and Vinnie without the girls between them. This was a feeling he’d always meant to keep to himself.

Vinnie smelled a bit of alcohol but there was also a fresh clean smell, like soft night wind. “Stop,” Vinnie said into his shoulder. “Stop doing that.”

“Vinnie, I’m not doing…”

“The way you always touch me. The way you look…”

Confused, Sonny said, “Huh?”

He felt the fists in his shirt grip tighter. Without warning, Vinnie’s head turned and his lips pressed hard to Sonny’s, dry and hot and with the hardness of teeth behind them, tough, unyielding, supremely male, radiating power. It was as if Sonny had been in some kind of dim dream that was turning now, rushing into rapids and over the waterfall into something just short of a nightmare, between lazy, soft, flowing thought and the dark scream of the abyss itself. He tasted both serenity and chaos, sweet and acrid. Soft rain. Hard lightning. Spark. Flare.

Adrenaline.

It was as if Vinnie really had hit him.

As abruptly as it happened it was over. Vinnie pushed up and back, face contorted in a look of horror. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sonny. I’m so sorry.” Fists still clenched, he turned away.

Sonny stood stunned, unmoving, although it felt as if every cell in his body was suddenly evolving toward ash.

Vinnie said, “I don’t know what I’m doing or thinking. I don’t know. God! I’m sorry.”

Trying to find his voice, Sonny croaked out, “It’s okay.”

“No, really, I’m so sorry,” and Vinnie moved aimlessly, pacing a little, turning, agitated. “It’s prison, it makes guys come out different sometimes…” The excuse was a poor, whispered offer because Sonny knew nothing had happened to Vinnie in prison. Vinnie had told him. He had had a still in his cell. He’d been a trustee. He was on the top in that joint, and Sonny couldn’t picture him any other way.

“It’s okay, Vinnie,” he said again, voice a little stronger now, thoughts becoming a little more coherent. Had Vinnie just kissed him? Kissed him?

“It’s not. I’m a fucking mess!”

Sonny let out a sound that was between a chuckle and grunt. “Huh.” He reached up and scratched his jaw. “I said you could hit me if you wanted. I didn’t think it would be with your lips.” Sonny could still feel it. The hard press, the burning power.

Vinnie looked dismayed, then very angry. “It’s not funny!”

At that, Sonny did laugh. “I said I was game.” He tried not to grin.

“Stop it!”

Sonny moved forward, smile falling. He reached out and shoved Vinnie in the shoulder. He’d never wanted to see a reaction more badly in his life. “You stop it,” he countered.

Vinnie tripped back, confused. Sonny stepped forward, shoved again.

“Don’t!”

“Don’t what?” In his mind he heard himself, the stupid question again. What do you want, Vinnie? What do you want?

“What’re you doing?”

Sonny shoved him again. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m not… I’m not…” But Vinnie, smart Vinnie, had run out of his own extensive vocabulary. Sonny wanted to laugh some more, but he didn’t. Because right now Vinnie was so irresistibly gorgeous: enraged, horrified, apologetic, and aggrieved.

Sonny moved closer to him again, into his space, his heat. And that was when he realized how much he wanted him.

The energy of that realization trapped the very breath in his throat.

But now he couldn’t move. He wanted Vinnie to do it. To move. To break that invisible space between them.

But Vinnie remained still.

It was so quick the way the fantasy played out. Somewhere locked in his brain had been the whole picture for perhaps quite some time. Now it spread out before him, a tapestry of ecstasy. Vinnie was in every thread.

He could order it. Fear or enticement. Vinnie never reacted well to fear. So…

Sonny took a deep breath, lifted his trembling hands and started methodically undoing the buttons on his own shirt, then the cuffs, all while garnering another Vinnie-frown. He pulled his shirt off his shoulders and then his wrists, tossed it hard. Next came his undershirt.

“Sonny, what…?”

Topless now, Sonny just narrowed his gaze and started on his trousers, undoing the button, the zipper, never taking his eyes off Vinnie’s. “I don’t want any barriers,” he said mildly. He shucked his shoes and pushed off the pants, kicking them away with his socks.

“Fight me or fuck me. But whatever you decide, make it count.” With that, he peeled off his shorts, the cool air against his sensitive skin making him shiver. He was already half-hard. He stepped closer to Vinnie who was still fully dressed, suit, tie, jacket…

Yeah, this was a little like that past image he’d had, him shaking in the cold and Vinnie the fire, him reaching out and warming his hands. He looked up at him unabashed, and pressed his body to him.

Vinnie flinched. Vinnie never flinched.

But neither did he pull away.

First he’d been the cliché cat bringing the cliché dead mouse. Now he was about to rub up against the unbelievable static power that was Vinnie. All he was missing was the purr. It was too late for Sonny to start feeling like a fool now. Far too late for that. So he said softly, “Go on.” He’d never willingly taken a beating in his life.

He’d never asked to be fucked, either.

His eyes burned but stayed dry.

Slowly, Vinnie shook his head. It was very slight. Back. Forth. His breath caught, then he reached out and tentatively touched Sonny on the shoulders with both hands.

The heat of those fingertips singed him. Which would it be? Sonny wondered. But he already knew. Vinnie was not a natural born killer. Vinnie was not a fighter. Vinnie was a lover.

As Sonny’s heart hammered, Vinnie’s fingers tightened. Abruptly, Sonny felt himself pulled forward and the hard kiss came again. This time, Sonny opened his mouth. His naked body pressed the seams and the silks and the buttons of Vinnie’s clothing. He felt Vinnie’s tie sway forward and brush his ribs. His erection throbbed against Vinnie’s thigh.

Vinnie made a noise in Sonny’s mouth. It sounded like “Guh…” Then he felt one of his arms go around his back, the buttons of the sleeve scraping his skin and Vinnie bent his body away from him so Sonny’s chin was at his ear, and moved a little to the side. His other arm came up alongside the first, brushing his bare hip, leaving goose bumps, then along the backs of his thighs, then behind his knees, and before he realized what was happening Vinnie lifted him up in his arms.

Sonny cried out in surprise, grabbing his shoulder with his free hand to keep from falling. Of course his first reaction was to yell, ‘Put me down.’ But he’d committed to this. He’d determined from the beginning that Vinnie was going to have whatever he wanted. He groaned against his chest and let his body go limp.

The fact that he was incredibly turned on did not elude him.

He kept his fist firmly on Vinnie’s shoulder, though, still afraid to fall as Vinnie carried him, seemingly no longer drunk, across the room and into the small bedroom where Vinnie had slept all these last months, this suite in his hotel yet another gift Sonny had given him.

When he got to the foot of the bed, he dumped Sonny not too gently onto the bed. Before Sonny could get his bearings, or scoot back even a little, Vinnie was on him, fully clothed, weight pressing in. Now Sonny grabbed him, holding him tighter. If Vinnie pressed him all the way through the mattress to the other side, he felt it wouldn’t be enough.

This time, when Vinnie kissed him, Sonny ran his hands up the back of his jacket and through his hair, kissing back hard. That hair. It was so soft against his fingers. So fine.

He moved his lips, sucking at Vinnie’s, arched against the weight of the body, his cock caught tight between them. Vinnie held him down. He could barely breathe. It was tremendously exciting.

Finally, he was able to squirm enough to spread his legs. Vinnie lifted up. Sonny wrapped them around him and they were kissing again, no time to breathe, nothing left but lips and tongue and heat and near to bursting heart.

His world had vanished. He didn’t care. It was all Vinnie now. It was all he wanted. And maybe, he hoped, he was all Vinnie wanted in return.

He could dream.

He could entice.

Sonny moved his hands down now, pulling Vinnie’s shirt up, pushing his hands inside the back of his trousers.

Vinnie growled. He rose to his knees, hands going to his pants, but he was off-balance and fell forward. Sonny pushed him up at the hips, then went to the top button of his pants, deftly undoing it. Vinnie’s hands collided with his, as if he wanted to do it himself.

Sonny said breathlessly, “Babe, lift.” And he pushed the cloth down, along with Vinnie’s shorts, until it bunched around his thighs but exposed everything else. Well, everything that was important, at least. His shirt tail got a bit in the way but, hell, could anything ever be totally perfect?

Vinnie was hard and flushed and simply exquisite. To say the word handsome…it seemed incomplete. Sonny reached out, brushing his hand over the sensitive skin, then folding his fingers around that hardness, moving his palm, caressing.

Vinnie flinched. This time it was all good, the flinching, the air sucked in through gritted teeth. Yeah, all good. Sonny wanted him happy. Sonny wanted him feeling good. This, he could tell, was making him feel good. And it was making Sonny crazy for him.

Normally he didn’t do things like this. Not ever. He didn’t do guys. He wasn’t gay. But Vinnie was something else. Vinnie was… Vinnie was everything. Vinnie wanted him. And that he could give.

He lifted himself to him.

Vinnie leaned down. “You done this before?” he whispered hotly into Sonny’s ear.

“Who cares?” Sonny whispered back.

Vinnie pushed up and looked at him. The eyes weren’t so burnt-looking now. His features weren’t so pained. “I do,” he replied.

Concern. Care. Reticence. Sonny had expected none of it. This was an extra complication. He swallowed hard when Vinnie gave him a very unexpected half-smile, then kissed him, this time soft, softer as Sonny pushed up trying to get more, more, and Vinnie pulled back.

Vinnie licked his jaw, then kissed his way down his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

No answer. Vinnie’s head moved lower.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

Vinnie licked, then kissed him right beside his bellybutton. Lifting his head, he said, “I’m not going to rape you.”

Sonny said, “Wait.”

Vinnie said, “No.” Then he leaned lower and licked all the way up the underside of Sonny’s stiff cock.

Sonny gasped. “It’s not about me…”

“Yes. It is. You said to make it count.”

“But for you. For you…”

He tilted his head, looking at him. “Yeah, I know. But you have to be ready.”

“Dammit, I ammm….” After that, Sonny could only groan as Vinnie took him into his mouth. Fuck but it was good. But what was Vinnie doing? Vinnie was supposed to be taking his pleasure. Taking. Sonny was giving. That was how this was going to work. That was the deal.

Vinnie wanted him. He would give himself. Yes, he wanted Vinnie. But this man posed another threat, too. This man could make him lose control.

Or worse, lose himself.

Pleasure ravaged him. It wasn’t just lust, either.

And that was bad. Bad. Because love made things complicated. Love made one suffer.

Under his breath, “Vinnie, stop.”

But Vinnie didn’t hear, or perhaps chose to ignore him as his hands lifted Sonny up by the hips, as his palms cupped Sonny’s ass, fingertips gently exploring as Sonny stretched up to allow it. A moist finger intruded. Then another.

Sonny gasped at Vinnie’s boldness even though he’d asked for it. Even though he wanted it. The dark head bobbing against his most sensitive flesh, tongue dancing, teasing, fingers filling him…it was all too much.

This man filled him with despair by this pleasure, ruining him for everything from now into the future. He would suffer for this later. He just knew it.

He felt himself tense, felt the heat, the tingle, the miraculous impending convulsion of ecstasy and was overcome. For a moment he felt a strange feeling of hope… But for what? As if God had blue eyes and a wry smile and the promise of things he could not yet begin to dream…

“Vinnie!” He came hard, harder than ever, and there was nothing for long seconds, nothing to hold onto. And then there was a body over him, silk and shirt tails and still the tie, and Sonny wrapped his arms around him as he felt Vinnie enter him, as he lifted himself, as he suffered more of this crazy night he wanted never to end.

Sonny grabbed onto him tightly as Vinnie plowed his sorrow into him, all his grief and horror and confusion and anger and possibly even something like love. Vinnie cupped his face as Sonny turned away, and forced it back to meet his, kissed him sweetly and said, “Sonny, stay with me. Stay with me,” between stuttering breaths.

It hurt. And then it didn’t. Either way, Sonny didn’t care. His body was merely a receptacle. It was his mind that was being fucked.

Vinnie still smelled faintly of alcohol, but also of Sonny himself. And more, a crispness of slow, dark night. And stars.

They had not had to go driving to find them. No.

Sonny raised his legs higher. Vinnie went deeper. Sonny clung, his body slippery now, sweating, like fire, so hot he thought he might scorch Vinnie’s fifteen hundred dollar suit.

When Vinnie came inside him he could not have described it even to himself, except that he felt as stunned as the first time Vinnie’s hard lips had touched his own.

After, he felt as if he might be broken. Yet a kind of new power surged through him. He pulled Vinnie to his side. They stared at each other in shock. Vinnie’s dark bangs stuck to his forehead. He looked young and open and beautiful.

Sonny’s mouth was slightly open. Maybe awe was why. Vinnie was still catching his breath. At the same time they both came forward, chins, cheeks, noses, lips colliding.

After awhile they literally had to breathe and broke apart. Vinnie whispered those words again. “Stay with me, Sonny.”

Later, when he found the strength, he sat up, drew his legs up and leaned over Vinnie’s still-clothed, supine form. His veins still sang at the memory of his touch. He reached out slowly, and as Vinnie watched him with a clear and careful gaze, he undid his tie. When Sonny pulled it free, he let his hand rise up a little, let the back of it brush Vinnie’s cheek, then he folded the tie, turned and put it on the nightstand.

Next, he put his hand behind Vinnie’s neck, gave a little push. Vinnie obeyed, coming to his elbows, and Sonny pushed his jacket off his shoulders, then Vinnie lifted one arm and the sleeve came away, then the other. Sonny neatly folded the jacket on his lap, then set it, also, on the nightstand.

When he turned back, Vinnie was undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Sonny leaned down again. He whispered, “Let me do that.”

Vinnie’s hands fell to his sides as slowly, with deliberate care and a low-burning thrill, Sonny undressed him. He gave soft commands every one of which Vinnie obeyed without hesitation. “Lift your arms, there, lean forward, that’s good.” He pushed and tugged at Vinnie’s suit trousers, saying softly, “Up, that’s right,” and pulled them down over his knees, down his legs, beyond his ankles taking shoes and socks along the way. He folded every piece of clothing neatly and placed them in a tidy pile on the nightstand. He took everything until Vinnie was naked before him, body still glistening with recent pleasures. Vinnie lay unmoving, naked olive skin exposed and burnished in the soft light, muscles underneath curved and flowing one into the other forming the perfect sculpture of the man. Sonny touched his shoulder, drew his hand down to the spot just below Vinnie’s neck and above his chest. He pressed his palm there, felt the pulse and said, “You can sleep now.”

He was aware that Vinnie kept staring at him as he lifted the covers over them both.

Before he turned off the light, Vinnie looked up at him with a kind of wonder Sonny had never dreamed of ever seeing projected toward him.

Happy Birthday, Vinnie.

When the room went dark he pressed into him, feeling the warmth of the other body beside him, a sensation like just coming in from the cold and moving toward a hearth. A hand touched Sonny’s own naked chest. Then reached further around him, pulling him closer.

Sonny felt like he was being brought to something he’d been moving toward all his life.

*

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work by Natasha Solten, you may also enjoy her m/m romances on Kindle under her non-fanfic name: Wendy Rathbone. Look for "The Foundling," "The Secret Sharer" and the soon to be released "None Can Hold the Dark" (due in fall 2013.) She also has an sf novel out, and a collection of poetry.


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